lo-fi shota; if i show him then he buys i like the money but i need the narcissistic supply
grey face on the internet in a glass case a bad taste that the cinnamon cant erase but im based while i baste in my cum and place a bet how long can i avoid the sun’s rays, then raise
i make a killing selling fantasy to closeted gays who never got to get fucked in their glory days and now they’re married with sons who they love and hate themselves about as much as i do when we go on dates
they tell me that i am the only one they want to rape but that they’d never really would, it’s just bedroom play i send them pictures and they buy me lots of videogames and by the time i get them theyre suicidally ashamed
and then i wonder if i’m sick or if i’m partly to blame cos if i’m honest when his dick is in me i like the pain i even like it when he calls me by his son’s first name and cuddles with me after making sure that we both came
lo-fi shota; if i blow him then he cries i like the money but i need the narcissistic supply
he laps up my cum just like it’s a perfect drug
all he wanted was a little from a little boy the same way that his uncle used to give him joy while his daddy was inside him, and he wasnt coy that’s what he told me after i was under his employ
he said that he was always horny and he couldnt avoid crawling onto his father’s lap and then getting destroyed and that he’d give me anything if i would be his toy and if i would that it’d maybe help him fill the void
inside his heart that he felt in his pants, and freud wouldve been better for this job cos i was just annoyed and devoid of interest in how he would justify it i’ve heard it all a million times and nothing rectifies it
but tell me you got an erection when you heard me sigh and give me all of your attention and look into my eyes i’ll give you sexual affection that’ll be nothing like your wife or kid could ever do because you are my supply